


Lost

by zazz15



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015), Star Wars Episode VIII: The Last Jedi (2017), Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Angst, Character Death, F/M, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Kylo Ren Angst, Kylo Ren Has Issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-11
Updated: 2018-02-11
Packaged: 2019-03-16 15:54:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,181
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13639458
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zazz15/pseuds/zazz15
Summary: Kylo Ren has been living as a shell of a man a long time, but it's only recently that's he's come to realize this fact.





	Lost

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first work for star wars, so I hope everyone enjoys it. Constructive criticism is always nice. Leave kudos or comments or whatever if you like! Kylo Ren is my emo trash son and I love his angst.

It’s been exactly six months, one week, and five days since they last spoke, moments after he had slain his Master, the constant companion since childhood, Snoke, when he had offered her everything, laid himself bare, pleaded with her to take his hand, and she’d responded with summoning Anakin’s saber to her hand. Since then, every one of their Vists, where they are linked by the Force without choice, she has ignored him and he has held himself back by threadbare strings of control, willing himself not to acknowledge her, the betrayer, the Scavenger turned Resistance hero. Unfortunately, they both know the truth; she can survive without him, surrounded by warmth and friendship, pushing the truth down with a familiar sense of denial, whereas he is slowly withering away, trapped in a prison of his own making. He is isolated, he is weak, he is a hopeless wreak of a human being, now more shell than man. 

He wears the persona of Kylo Ren, supreme leader of the First order, Emperor of the New empire, like a mask, shielding his aching, bruised soul from his subordinates. The ginger weasel, Hux, watches him like a vulture circling its prey; he knows his rule is a castle built on sand, soon it will crumble when high tide comes in, taking the man that is both Kylo Ren and Ben Solo with it. He has long since accepted the truth: he is no Vader, nor will he ever be. He is simply a boy playing at being a man, a child in a mask as Snoke liked to tell him.

Every day, the voices of his past, his doubts, and failures, reverberate in his head, convincing him further that it is a miracle he has lasted this long in his miserable existence. If it weren’t for his fleeting glances of the Scavenger, he would gladly welcome following all those from his past. He exists, now, only to look upon her, like a princess who has willingly shut herself away to protect herself from the prowling beast, his dark heart empty, craving her acceptance and touch even as he punishes himself for the weakness of, ultimately, loving this girl he knows nothing but everything about. 

Everything comes to a head when he feels the tearing in the Force, the deep ripple of pain, sorrow, and grief moving through every living being as his Mother passes on to be one with the Force. It cripples him, bringing him to his knees in the middle of his training facilities. Tears pour down his face, a pipe bursting after decades of holding them in, great heaving sobs wracking his awkward, bulky form as he prostates himself before all his regrets and the unquantifiable energy that is the Force in its entirety; he feels it move through him, a cleansing and painful feeling, ripping old, scabbed over wounds open, making old pain new, while forgiving him for his ultimate betrayal, patricide. He is at the Force’s mercy, a conduit for its will, taking its punishment as retribution for his mother’s death.  
Suddenly, all sounds around him echo back, like standing at the end of a tunnel, and he knows the Scavenger is there. He feels her grief, her anger, and her betrayal. In any other circumstance, he would answer her anger with his own, but he is drained before her, still on his knees, snot and saltwater rolling down his face, puddling before him on the floor, his oily, black hair a shield between his puffy, red eyes, and her accusing hazel eyes. 

“How could you?” she spat, looking down on him as if he were dirt beneath her well-worn boots. He doesn’t answer, consumed still by his grief and oozing wounds. She stomps over to him, stopping to violently shake his wide shoulders. Snarling, she grabbed his hair, yanking his head up. She falters, finally having a chance to study his face. His face is more sunken, his eyes circled by bruises of purple and blue, his hair falling lank around his shoulders, and his eyes are unfocused, starring past her, lost in memories. She drops his head swiftly, allowing it to drop between his hands on the floor, before taking a shaking step backwards. She swallows, uncertainty in her eyes, lowering herself to her knees, treating him like a wild animal. 

“How could you?” she asks, softer this time, actually wondering at the answer this time, no longer accusing. 

“How could I what?” he croaks, his voice rough from disuse, maintaining eye contact with the floor.

“Order her death! Was killing your father not enough? You had to get rid of Leia as well?” her voice steadily rises, her voice quaking with rage. The things around her shake, the Dark side seeping out of her. 

“I ordered nothing,” he whispered. “I had no clue… I’m more figurehead than Snoke was.” 

His answer draws her up short, her brows furrowing in confusion. “What do you mean?”

He laughs bitterly. “I’m not surprised you haven’t noticed, since I’m well beneath your radar, Scavenger, but I haven’t made a true decision about my supposed First Order since I commanded the siege of Crait, months ago,” he rasps, looking up then. His eyes are cold and bitter, cutting her with their sharp-edged pain. 

“I… I didn’t know,” she murmured, guilt leaking into her words. She tentatively reached out her hand, hovering over his scarred cheek. Kylo flinched backwards, as if her touch burns, but after taking a deep breath, he allowed himself the gentleness of her touch, closing his eyes as he relished the skin of her palm against his tainted skin. Kylo leaned closer, feeling the ever-present tension slip away from his muscles, his shoulders drooping as he prostrated himself before Rey, his equal in life and the Force, savoring a few moments of peace. 

“Ben… come home…” Rey whispered tentatively, her thumb soothing the skin of his cheek, mirroring the last touch of his father. Tears rolled down his face as he took a shuddering breath, slowly shaking his head in response. 

“It’s too late, there’s no home to go back to. I don’t belong there anymore, just like I don’t belong here anymore…” Kylo paused, pondering an idea that had been occupying his thoughts lately. “I… I think I’m going to leave the First Order with a bang and then go try to figure out who I am.” 

Kylo sat back on his heels, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand, feeling a flicker of resolve bolster him, slowly pulling him out of his well of self-loathing and grief. Rey bit her lip, tears unhurriedly making their way down her freckle covered tan cheeks. She smiled at him weakly, reaching a hand out to push his hair behind one of his large ears. 

“I look forward to seeing your progress. We’re taking Leia to Naboo, to put her to rest beside her mother. I’ll keep an eye out for you.” 

Kylo inclined his head, the corner of his lips twitching upwards. “I’ll see you on Naboo.”


End file.
